Amelia arrived at the office early the next morning, coffee in one hand, her laptop bag in the other. Her eyes still carried the faint shadows of exhaustion — she'd stayed up past midnight fixing that ridiculous guest list.
But when she dropped the neatly printed pages on Christopher King's desk, she refused to look tired.
He would never see her crack.
"Your revised list, sir," she said, standing straight.
Christopher didn't look up immediately. He was dressed in his usual black — crisp shirt, tailored suit, watch that probably cost more than her rent for a year. When he finally did glance up, his blue eyes flickered across her face briefly.
"You worked late," he said, voice smooth and indifferent.
"Yes, sir."
"Hmm." He flipped through the pages. No mistakes. Not one.
That irritated him even more.
"Acceptable," he said, setting it aside.
"Thank you, sir."
He should've dismissed her. He usually did. But instead, he leaned back in his chair, watching her for a moment too long. "Tell me, Miss Jones," he said finally. "Do you believe in luck?"
She hesitated. "Luck?"
"Yes. Luck. Opportunity. Timing. All the things people blame when they don't get what they want."
Her gaze stayed steady. "I believe in effort, sir. Luck runs out. Hard work doesn't."
He smiled faintly — but it wasn't a kind smile. "Good answer."
Then, like flipping a switch, he turned cold again. "Let's test that."
Her brows furrowed slightly. "Sir?"
"I'm putting you in charge of the King's Tech Launch Event next week."
Her pulse skipped. "That's… your company's largest annual event, isn't it?"
"It is."
"With respect, sir, I've been here less than a week."
"I'm aware." He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. "Consider this a challenge. Succeed, and you might prove useful here. Fail—" He shrugged. "Well, at least you'll learn your limits."
Every instinct told her this was a setup. A trap designed to make her stumble. But something inside her — that stubborn streak that had carried her through far worse — refused to back down.
"I'll handle it, sir," she said quietly.
"Good." He looked almost disappointed that she didn't argue. "You'll report directly to me until it's over."
Her stomach flipped. "Directly to you?"
"Is that a problem?"
"No, sir."
"Then don't waste time."
When she left the office, Mark (his assistant) whistled low. "You either impressed him or pissed him off. Can't tell which one."
"Maybe both," Amelia said dryly, clutching her planner.
---
By the next afternoon, she was already neck-deep in preparations — catering contracts, lighting designs, press invites, corporate partnerships. Everything was chaos.
And just when she thought she was finally catching up, he appeared again.
Christopher King didn't knock. He just walked in, holding his phone. "Who approved this vendor?"
"I did," she said, standing straight.
"They're three percent over budget."
"It's a premium service—"
"I didn't ask for premium. I asked for perfect execution at minimal waste."
Her jaw flexed. "Understood."
He stared at her for a moment — that unreadable gaze again, searching for cracks.
But there were none.
He turned to leave, but something made him stop. "Most people try to impress me, Miss Jones," he said quietly. "You… seem more interested in surviving me."
Amelia's lips twitched. "Maybe that's the only way to work under you, sir."
That earned her a pause — then the faintest trace of a smile. "We'll see."
---
Later that night, after the rest of the team left, Amelia stayed behind. The office was silent again, the city lights flickering through the glass walls.
Her phone buzzed — a video call. She smiled instantly when she saw the screen.
Lily. Ethan. Emily.
"Mommy!" they shouted in unison.
Her heart melted. "Hey, my loves. Did you behave for Aunt Grace?"
Ethan grinned. "I helped her water the plants! But Emily poured too much!"
"I did not!" Emily protested. "Lily told me to!"
Amelia laughed softly. "Okay, okay. Everyone's guilty."
"Mom," Lily asked in her sweet serious tone, "When are you coming to get us?"
Her smile faltered slightly. "Soon, baby. Mommy just needs to finish something important first, okay?"
Ethan pouted. "Is it your new job?"
"Yeah," she said softly. "It's… complicated. My boss is a little mean sometimes."
Her kids giggled. "You always say that about mean people," Emily teased. "But they end up liking you."
She smiled. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."
Behind her, the office elevator dinged.
She turned — and froze.
Christopher King was standing there, hands in pockets, his expression unreadable as his eyes flickered to the phone screen.
"Still working, Miss Jones?" he asked coolly.
She swallowed hard, quickly muting the call. "Yes, sir. Just finishing up."
His gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary, then he nodded once and left.
The doors slid shut. Amelia exhaled shakily, heart thumping.
Back on the screen, Lily whispered, "Mommy… was that the mean man?"
Amelia smiled faintly. "Yeah. That's him."
Ethan giggled. "He looks scary."
"He is," she said softly, eyes distant. "But maybe… not all the way through."
---